


An Unlikely Romance - The Avengers (Part 2)

by TheWolfSage



Series: An Unlikely Romance - The Avengers [2]
Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:40:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26947612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWolfSage/pseuds/TheWolfSage
Summary: Escaping your past wasn't hard. HYDRA tore it away from you. Clint urged you to leave it behind. Fury told you it didn't matter. Natasha was the only one who seemed to respect your past. Envy it, even. It would have been so easy to cast aside your past life, tell everyone you met that it didn't matter. Tell them your past didn't matter, and you were in charge of the future.But you did none of that. You held that past to your heart, even as SHIELD tried to beat it out of you, even as HYDRA fought their way in to find you, for the sole sake of a life you never knew you had. Leaving it all behind would have been far easier... but then again, you always were a stubborn one. With your past out of reach, your future uncertain, and even your present fairly unstable, you only had one constant. It wasn't Fury, with his mystery and intrigue. It wasn't Clint, with his charismatic façade. No, you were in fact quite surprised to find that it was Natasha. Because even when you felt like she wanted to kill you...At least she was honest about it. And she never told you how easy it would be to overcome your past.Hard to believe your past could have so much sway over you... when you had no idea what it was.
Relationships: Natasha Romanov (Marvel) & Reader, Natasha Romanov (Marvel)/Reader
Series: An Unlikely Romance - The Avengers [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1849366
Comments: 22
Kudos: 97





	1. Student Orientation

"Settling in nicely, I see. Irresponsibly, but nicely."

"You never said that I had to order things specifically from the catalogs if I was aware of other products - you let me buy the TV, what comes of that is _your_ responsibility, Fury."

You said this while chest-deep in the biggest, softest bean bag chair you'd been able to find an advertisement for on late-night television. Partially to give you a place to nap and sleep that would keep Fury guessing, just in case he tried to send in one of his agents while you were asleep, and partially because fuck yeah, bean bag chair. Testing the limits of what you were allowed to purchase was just a secondary bonus.

"I also believe I told you to spend your money responsibly. I fail to see how this contributes anything to you long-term."

"I could get shot in the head at any time of any day; long-term planning isn't really a strong suit of mine right now."

"I thought we were past you thinking I was gonna kill you?"

"I was more thinking of HYDRA breaking in here and executing me," you taunted, raising an eyebrow only half-sarcastically. "Funny you jump to that conclusion immediately, though."

Fury sighed, that look coming across his face that you were all too familiar with. The annoyed glare, the taut jawline, the straightened spine… he was already done with your shit for the day, but he had something he wanted to say. The fact you were so familiar with that look was a little alarming to you, but you appreciated the subtleties in him you were noticing more and more as time passed.

"I can assure you that while this facility could have been compromised like the last one was, that's exactly why I chose it. This base is only an hour by car from Avengers Tower, which means you're no more than a few minutes from some seriously super-powered backup if things go south. Every floor below or above this one has a dozen or more security measures designed to prevent metahuman intrusion, including crowd control, automated turrets, and biometric scanners keyed to every elevator and door. Twenty-four seven security guards, and *that* isn't even including my two best agents being around. The only way they're gettin' through that glass in your little view-room or through one of these reinforced walls is with a dedicated assault using a lot of high-end weaponry that's hard to sneak around in downtown New York. If HYDRA comes knocking here, they're gonna draw a lot of attention, and they'll get intercepted long before they get to you."

"Sounds ominous," you noted, lacing your fingers by your head and leaning back in the cushiony chair. "So what's the deal, Fury? You usually send Clint and Natasha to check in on me, you don't show up for conjugal visits yourself."

"You may recall," Fury said, narrowing his eyes but otherwise blatantly ignoring your remarks, "that I told you a position within SHIELD was in the cards if you proved yourself trustworthy. Despite your _personal_ flaws, both because of and in spite of HYDRA's experiments, you're a valuable asset. I still don't know that I can trust you fully, but you've done enough that I feel comfortable letting Agent Romanov and Agent Barton work with you more closely."

"How closely? I wasn't serious about the conjugal visits, but Clint _is_ pretty damn sexy," you said, grinning wolfishly.

"Don't make me regret a decision I haven't even committed to," Fury said dryly. "There's plenty of time for me to throw your ass out on the street. You may not remember how our government works, but trust me - people with no birth records, no identification, and pretending to have no memories don't do well on the streets."

"Alright, alright, stow the threats," you sighed, holding up your hands. "Look, if you want me to start having therapy sessions or something I'm not interested."

"I was thinking more along the lines of combat training," Fury said, growing suddenly stoic. He had that mood around him again, the strange calm that seemed to come over him when he wanted to keep you from reading too much into his actions. It was like the ultimate poker face, something you weren't all that surprised by considering what you knew of him.

"Wait, you _want_ me to fight my guards? And I won't get shot if I win?"

" _If_ you win, I'll be damn impressed," Fury said, letting a forced half-laugh escape him. "There's a lot of people in this world, and I don't know one that could take my best men down without remembering how to fight, no matter how strong they were. But yeah, I'm alright with you taking a swing at them. Just remember they're going to be swinging back, when they think you can handle it."

"Y'know… Strategic Homeland Intelligence and Enforcement Divison… doesn't really sound too much like a military unit," you mused as Fury began to turn away. "Honestly, it sounds like someone just really wanted their initials to spell SHIELD, but more than that, it sounds a mixture of a lot of things that you wouldn't normally group together, at least not in one unit. Intelligence gathering, homeland security, law enforcement, high-level spec ops... I haven't just been watching infomercials for beanbags, Fury. I know Law Enforcement, federal intelligence agencies, and the government itself all have given people plenty of reasons not to trust them. Why exactly is SHIELD different? The very first thing you want to teach me is how to fight."

"…"

Fury paused for a long moment, glancing back at you with something that shocked you - a new look, one that you hadn't seen before.

"Ten years ago, I'd have taught you how to go undercover. Taught you how to pretend to be someone you never even imagined until that very moment, and to do it as smoothly as if you were born in that identity, and then I'd have shown you how to cover up every inconsistency in the story you told. I'd teach you how to be every politician's best friend, every mercenary's most reliable contact, and every warlord's favorite hitman. You'd work in a dozen countries under a hundred pseudonyms, and you'd slip between them flawlessly, because if you couldn't, you wouldn't have a place in my agency.

"Today? Today I don't need spies, I need soldiers. New York is still repairing the damage done by an invasion of alien forces that killed thousands of people. We couldn't even begin to predict the scope or size of the attack, much less prepare for it. A rogue AI nearly caused an extinction-level event that could have wiped out humanity in its entirety, and that happened so recently I still send my condolences to funerals by the month. Top that all off with the fact that I have less than a dozen operatives I trust to stop these things from happening, and earlier this year half of them underwent what could be generously described as a 'conscious uncoupling' from the other half… things aren't looking good. I need men and women who can fight things that twenty years ago would have gotten you locked up in an asylum just for talking about on the street."

"What the fuck is going on out there?" You asked, genuinely caught off-guard by Fury's severity and the things he was implying. "AI? Rogue forces? You had *maybe a dozen* agents to stop it, not thousands of soldiers? What the fuck-"

"The things I deal with on a daily basis are so far beyond the concerns you have sitting in this air-conditioned and paid-for apartment," Fury said harshly to interrupt your concerned questions, "that it goes without saying you _still_ haven't made the top ten section of my priority list. If you want to make yourself useful I'm not going to deny you the chance. Otherwise, you can sit here until you or that chair finally win the battle it looks like you're fighting with each other."

"How badly are they gonna kick my ass?" You realized as the question left your lips that it was only half-sarcastic.

"Depends on how fast you wanna learn," Fury said, a similar note of humor entering his own voice.

"Alright, I'll do it. Tell them I'll wear the bruises like badges of honor. Are they going to fight dirty, though?"

Fury just laughed. The lack of even a sarcastic response to that one was… surprisingly scary. Even after everything you had been through.


	2. Getting Jumped In

You had to admit, after all you had come to know of Natasha and Clint, the last thing you expected was mercy. Yet honestly you couldn't have asked for a set of kinder or more understanding teachers in the first few days of your new life.

The subtle agreement you had given Fury must have been enough for him and his agents to start training you, because only two days after your beanbag-resting conversation with Fury, you were standing across from Natasha with hands raised and adrenaline surging. Thankfully, despite the woman's harsh demeanor, she didn't dive immediately into live sparring sessions - instead, Natasha focused entirely on you. Specifically, your stance, your awareness, and your reactions. That wasn't to say she didn't punish you for your mistakes or ignorance, but she did so in a far gentler method than the repeated skull-punches you were expecting.

"You need to work on your balance and get some consistency to your form," Natasha noted, roughly grabbing your elbows, forearms, and wrists while forcefully kneeing your legs into place. Her voice was firm, but not exasperated or annoyed, even though you were pretty sure this was the third time she'd stopped you from locking your knees in place.

"Sorry. The second you start swinging, I sort of… tense everything, even though I know you're holding back," you mumbled, the explanation not holding much weight now that you had given it so many times.

"Your memories only go back a few weeks, and you've only been in a life-or-death combat situation once," Natasha said in the way of an explanation, never meeting your eyes as she continued to scrutinize your body. "You're not used to thinking through things in the middle of an adrenaline rush, but you have to be to survive the kinds of situations SHIELD can put you in. Your body wants to initiate the fight-or-flight response, and so far it looks like flight is winning. You can't overcome that instinct in the heat of the moment; you'll just freeze up and your body won't react the way you need it to in order to survive. Fight isn't much better; if you're not thinking you become predictable and blunt, anyone fighting at this level needs skill as much as strength."

"I mean, I don't think the Hulk or Thor have that much skill, they seem to handle themselves pretty well."

"You get your hands on some Asgardian physiology or feel like exposing yourself to an unhealthy dosage of gamma radiation, and we'll find you a new trainer. For now? You need to loosen up, think fast, and be ready for pain."

Thankfully that warning was not followed by the punch to the head you were expecting. Instead she continued to instruct you on form, making sure that you were balanced and reactive to her movements. Clint was a bit more abrasive, but that was more due to the nature of what he was teaching you. He had apparently drawn the straw for weapon-based combat, and that included both teaching you how to fight when properly armed, and also how to fight against others who were far more well-armed than you.

It was a strange juxtaposition, but one that somehow actually helped you understand the differences between the most experienced and the most novice of weapon wielders. Every mistake you made burned into your mind almost as brightly as the clear successes Clint had, when he was actually trying. Even though each session was uniquely focused, you rapidly developed the feeling of being on both ends of various confrontations and disarming scenarios, from basic handguns to assault rifles, and even all the way to bows, a weapon he insisted on training you in despite being the only person you knew of to dare use one.

"Look, If I'm crazy enough to use one, you'll probably find someone else crazy enough eventually," Clint assured you as he ran you through a drill on averting a fired arrow from a bow for the thirteenth time, "and whoever you go up against won't be looking to poke you in the chest."

You bristled at the mention of the numerous times his blunt-ended arrows had impacted your ribcage. The downside of a bow was that Clint's sledgehammer arrows were completely non-lethal, but hurt like a motherfucker when they hit, so he felt free to use them regularly during your training. You tended to go home from his sessions with numerous new bruises, all around the size of a fingernail.

"I don't think there is *anyone* as crazy as you, Clint," you reassured him during one of your training sessions, several weeks after the weapons drills had started. He only grinned before continuing the session. No matter how badly his favorite weapon bruised you up, though, he'd inevitably show up the next day with a pump-action shotgun, a semi-automatic AR, or a bolt-action rifle that he was more than happy to instruct you on both firing and disarming, ignoring how badly you were hurt from the previous day and full hands-on training. Sometimes he even loaded them up with rubber bullets, though you got the distinct impression he went a little easier on you when he was using a proper firearm to pepper you with non-lethal rounds.

"So when exactly do I get a night off?" You eventually asked, to both Clint and Natasha in turn, when you felt like you were beginning to lose enthusiasm for the training. Honestly, it took longer than you thought for you to grow weary of training, in spite of both the repetition and pain. After so many days lost to an underground bunker where you weren't even sure you could keep track of the day and night cycle, dealing with a training regimen felt pretty new and invigorating. Even when you were still sore from Clint's weapons drills while Natasha was teaching you how to counter close-quarters disabling techniques.

Both of them gave you different answers. In Clint's case…

\------------

"Seriously? Thought you'd never ask," Clint said, laughing as he walked up to you and clasped you on the shoulder. "When I joined SHIELD they put me through a hell 'week'. Kind of like the marines, except it went on for a month. I told them I was dying after week two, and they just kept pushing me until the end of week three. Most of the class had been dealing with some kind of complication by that point; I passed out during a written examination and they told me that I flatlined. I _think_ they were exaggerating, but honestly? Still not sure. You're a newbie and you still made it through a month with no complaints, so yeah, a break sounds well-earned. How about schwarma?"

\------------

You had to admit, if nothing else, Clint made you wonder exactly **what** SHIELD was, and how they hired their agents. Clint and Natasha seemed so far apart at times it almost hurt your brain to understand how well they worked together, even though you'd very clearly seen it in person. Because on the opposite end of the spectrum, when you asked Natasha for a break…

\------------

"You want a break? Do you think what you've done qualifies you for SHIELD?"

"Nobody made the job offer formal yet," you pointed out, panting as you leaned against the wall. This was probably the fifth time Natasha had fought you at least somewhat seriously, leaving you battered, exhausted, and feeling like most of your bones were bruised beyond recovery. Although she was acting decently to you these days - even bordering on friendly at some points - you certainly couldn't tell that by her strikes.

"That's not what I asked," she said simply, gazing at you unflinchingly.

"Wha- no I don't think I'm qualified for SHIELD," you said, stuttering a bit as you glanced in disbelief at the unyielding woman before you. "I can't beat you, I can't beat Clint, I probably can't beat Fury, and the dude only has one eye and I've never seen him actually hit anyone. Shit, no, I'm not ready to go out there and fight."

"Then get back out here and keep going."

"What, SHIELD doesn't believe in breaks? What's next, are you gonna tell me you guys don't have a union?"

"Unions, huh? You've learned a lot about the outside world from that TV of yours. But it's time you learned about how the world actually works. SHIELD doesn't get nights off. Sometimes we get a breather, sometimes we can pretend that the world isn't fucked for a little while… then the next call comes in. Then someone gets hurt while we weren't paying attention. So we go back out, and we try to go a little longer before we rest every time."

"Jesus," you mumbled. "That's… pretty heavy."

"If you can't handle the pressure, SHIELD isn't what you want to do."

"No, I… I want to do it."

Despite the aches and pains in your body, you forced yourself away from the wall. You staggered over to the arena and assumed your stance as best as you could, ignoring the stiffness in your limbs.

"I want to join SHIELD, Natasha. I decided to accept the offer."

"No you didn't."

"Err… excuse me?" you asked, a little confused.

"You didn't accept because there _is_ no offer yet. Not an official one, anyway," Natasha explained, then started swinging at you again. Though you hadn't expected her to start up again in the middle of talking, you managed a halfway decent sparring session… for about thirty seconds, until she hooked her foot around your leg and threw you on your back, bringing an elbow down a moment later and stopping it just millimeters from crushing your throat.

"My win."

"What am I doing all this for, then?" You quirked an eyebrow at her as she offered you a hand up from the mat, seeing Natasha smirk just the tiniest bit.

"To get you ready, for when the offer comes," Natasha explained as you locked arms and she pulled you up. "Fury doesn't want you to make the decision because you think it's the only way we'd let you go free, or because you feel like you owe us anything. He wants you to be interested and working for it, if that's what you want to do, but he's not going to offer you a position with SHIELD until you're free. Then you can make the decision whether to join up or walk away."

"Huh, that's… kind of thoughtful, actually."

"You ready for another round?"

"Hell no," you wheezed, lifting up your arms and assuming your stance again. "Let's go."


	3. Initiation Rituals

"Hey, scooch over," Clint said as he plopped himself onto the couch beside you, forcing you toward the middle.

"Sure, Clint, I'd be glad to sit here and watch some bad late-night programming with you, why don't you take a seat?" you asked, trying to smother Clint to death with sarcasm. He only chuckled, elbowing you playfully as he set a bottle of liquor down on the simple tabletop you'd set beside the cheap furniture. You weren't sure if he had made more than one trip without you noticing or if he was just an adept at carrying things, but there were already two full two-liters of store-brand soda on the floor as mixers.

"You'd better be just as offended when I sit down, or I'm going to think you have a crush," Natasha said, sneaking up from the other side of the couch. Surprisingly she was also holding a bottle; some vodka whose name you couldn't even pronounce, looking far more expensive than Clint's store-brand rum. She had no mixers… and apparently didn't need them, as she had already started to gently sip on it next to you.

"Who wouldn't?" Clint asked, chuckling while he was already popping the cap off of his bottle, pouring a glass faster than you could watch. His glass was topped off before you had even turned back to him, and he was eyeing the remote in your hand. "So what's the show tonight? You know my preferences, but it's offseason on Idol, so hit me with whatever you've got."

"I was just gonna watch some news…" you said, hesitating. "Kind of trying to keep up with the outside world, you know? I don't get to-"

"Oh hell no, we are _not_ watching the news on an anniversary. Here, I'll pick the program," Clint interrupts, gently taking the remote from your hands and beginning to flick through channels at a breakneck pace. He offers you the drink he'd poured for himself, still untouched. "Here, you take this and forget whatever you were about to try to learn. I'll find something we can all enjoy."

"Oh, uh, okay," you mumbled, glancing at the glass. You'd drank with Clint before, but never with Natasha. You thought about handing the glass back over in case this was all some kind of test, but you could smell the vodka from Natasha's glass almost as well as you could smell the rum from the one Clint had just handed you - and she was _downing_ that glass. You hesitantly sipped at it, before you dared voice your next question.

"What exactly is this the anniversary of?"

"Sweet, I love these guys," Clint said off-handedly, landing on what seemed like some kind of sketch comedy show you didn't remember catching before. "Oh, the anniversary? Shit, I guess you're about the only person left who doesn't know… guess that shouldn't surprise me, though. It's the anniversary of Budapest!"

"Budapest? What's that?"

"Something Clint fucked up a long time ago," Natasha says, though there's a certain coyness to her voice.

"You and I remember Budapest very differently," Clint noted, shaking his head as he put the remote down and reached for the alcohol to pour himself a proper glass since he'd given his own away.

"Oh, so… was it like… some kind of mission?" You asked hesitantly, not sure what kind of vague clues were being fed to you.

"See? I told you that you were a fast learner," Natasha noted, smiling coyly at you over her glass as she sipped on the vodka again. You were caught off-guard by the friendly smirk and the strange playfulness you saw in her eyes.

"So do you guys do this every year, then?"

"Pretty much," Clint said as he finished pouring in his mixer, raising up his glass. "As a part of SHIELD you don't really get too much personal time, but that doesn't mean that you don't enjoy the friendships you make along the way. Nat and I… we've been through a lot."

"How did you two meet, exactly?" You ask, entirely innocently. As they both turn to look at you with questioning glances, you wonder if you should've waited until they both had a little more alcohol in their system. You very conspicuously lift your own glass back to your mouth to avoid their stares.

"Remember how you and I met?" Natasha eventually asks, after you've chugged almost your entire glass. "Imagine that, but less friendly."

"What, _less friendly_? Did you fucking shoot him?" You asked, the words coming out before you even thought about them.

"Hah! All that before a shot… still think you aren't hostile, Nat?" Clint asked, chuckling to himself as Natasha rolled her eyes.

"For your information… _Clint_ was the one who was about to shoot me," Natasha pointed out.

"C'mon, like I'd ever kill a kid."

"I was _not_ a kid, and you know better," Natasha said, a bit of actual annoyance entering her voice. Clint held up his hands defensively, and you decided to break the little tension that had formed.

"You guys weren't kidding when you said everyone has their issues with their past. But I gotta ask, why spend such an important anniversary in here, drinking with me?"

"Well, we can't exactly go out for a night on the town and leave you unprotected," Natasha pointed out between drinks, downing the last of her glass already. "After what happened with HYDRA at our old location, Fury wants at least one of us here at all times… both of us were helping you back then, and it was still touch-and-go sometimes."

"Yeah, by the way, if I go on missions do I get like earplugs or something? I know you guys think the improved senses are impressive and all, but having my ears blown out every time someone fires a gun really sucks…"

"Still impressed you didn't show any decreased hearing after that escape," Natasha noted, reaching for her vodka for another cup.

"Don't worry, SHIELD is pretty much cutting-edge on tech. I actually had to requisition a visor a few weeks back when we went on a mission that involved a lot of time in the arctic at springtime. Catching glare off melting ice with eyes these sharp can get a little rough, makes aiming a royal pain if you've got burned retinas."

"SHIELD already has some countermeasures for high-volume firefights; most SHIELD agents can't deal with hearing impairment as well as our resident sharpshooter."

"That _almost_ sounded like a compliment, Nat. Cheers," Clint offered, tipping back his glass and pouring another to match her.

"Well, that's a relief," you said, smiling softly. "But, uh, back to the matter of the celebration… I could come with you guys, if you wanted? Hell, I could DD for you if that'd help. I guess I don't know how you guys usually celebrate, but I feel kind of bad holding you back."

"If you think Fury would get mad at us going out without you, he'd get even _more_ pissed if we took you out drinking," Clint said while laughing, actually pulling his drink away to keep from spilling it as he let loose at the idea.

"Fury told you he was thinking about letting you have more freedoms, but I don't think he had you being the designated driver for a couple of off-duty SHIELD agents in mind," Natasha said, far more calm than Clint, though she still let an uncharacteristically honest smile spread over her face.

"Well now I just feel like the third wheel," you sighed, shaking your head as you drowned your sorrows in the glass Clint had poured for you.

"Not at all," Natasha said, putting a hand on your arm as you emptied the cup and pulled it away. "Seriously, we could have been drinking off in the security office watching cams. If we didn't want you here, you wouldn't be."

You stuttered a bit, not sure how to really respond to that. Natasha was acting very, _very_ differently than the agent you'd come to know… you were starting to wonder if maybe they _had_ been drinking without you, honestly.

"After everything that happened while you were in our custody, bringing you in on the celebration was probably the _least_ we could do," Clint agreed, taking your glass from you and refilling it. You went silent and tried to focus on the television for a bit, not sure how to return this sudden - and very unexpected - feeling of camaraderie. Clint passed the glass back to you full, and you sipped on it idly to give an excuse for your silence.

"Seriously though," Clint eventually added, when you pulled your cup away to take a breath, "I'm surprised you'd offer to do something like that. Tell you what, when Fury eases up a little bit, the three of us will have a _proper_ night out. Dinner, drinks, maybe catch a movie… I hear there's this new one about a guy in a batsuit-"

"Save the superheroes for the job, Clint," Natasha warned, rolling her eyes.

"Look, it's nice to be a spectator too!" Clint pointed out.

"Clint's rum is nice, but how about a taste of something that wasn't in the bargain bin?" Natasha offered you, pouring a new glass of her vodka and offering it to you. You hadn't quite finished your second glass of Clint's rum, and already it was starting to go to your head… but you took it in your free hand anyway, enjoying actually getting to be pleasant with the two. You weren't a fool - you were pretty sure they were up to _something_ , but you didn't have many secrets from the two to spill while intoxicated.

What the hell, you eventually decided, why worry about it? Fake or real, this could be your only chance to actually be friendly with the two. Better enjoy it while you could.

But damn, that vodka burned like liquid fire.


	4. Right Click - Show Hidden Files and Folders

Despite Natasha and Clint's best efforts, you managed to survivor your alcohol poisoning, and things went relatively back to normal after that. Training and confinement went back to a routine that was rarely broken, becoming almost boring… or as boring as things could be while actively training with two secret agents, anyway.

Most of what was new came to you in your private hours, spent mulling about the apartment while bored. You were running low on things to do aside from mindlessly watch television, or doing basic exercises on the floor. That hadn't been an issue until recently - one of the many benefits of having no memories was that everything on television was brand new. Even if it was technically a twenty year old rerun.

But lately, ever since you started training, you had started to have a lot more free time on your hands at night…

It had started out small - you woke up an hour or two early one morning, but felt oddly awake. You figured that it was just a fluke, or a nightmare you didn't remember anymore, and tried to go back to sleep. You tried until your alarm went off, but your mind was awake and alert. You groaned when you slammed your hand down on the blaring device, sure your slight loss of sleep was going to catch up to you later… but it never did. Even with Clint and Natasha pushing you to your limits in training, you never felt drowsy or like you were losing awareness.

That happened again only a few days later, only this time you woke up about four hours after going to sleep. It was three in the morning and you felt more awake than you had in days, your mind racing over pretty much anything. What was on TV? What was going on with Clint and Natasha? Were they going to include you in more anniversaries? Were they just trying to get you drunk to spill information? How many sheets of paper did you have left for journaling? How much food did you have left in the refrigerator?

It wasn't an overwhelming stimulation by any means - you were pretty used to your rampant thoughts, it just… wasn't usually at this time of night or while feeling so awake and alert. When Natasha showed up for training that day she actually commented on it, wondering why you were up and roaming so late. You had to remind yourself that they had cameras before you responded.

"Ah, rough night, haven't been sleeping well lately."

"Happens a lot with SHIELD agents, but… not usually before they've been out on a few missions gone wrong," Natasha noted, meeting your gaze. "Do you need sleeping pills? We haven't discusses it much, but if you think you need any kind of medication, Fury can get it for you."

"No, I think I'm okay. I'm not that tired, actually, it's weird," you noted, gritting your teeth as you readied up into your sparring stance again. Natasha squared off against you, cocking an eyebrow as you readied yourself for another round of combat.

"I can tell," she said, seeming almost sarcastic as the two of you exchanged blows. You were starting to get the hang of reacting to her attacks; you watched her chest and abdomen to see how her body was shifting, and you were starting to understand how to block or dodge blows with quick movements instead of seeing a punch coming and immediately throwing your entire body the other way. You still hadn't landed a shot on the agent yet; she ended up landing a palm-strike to your solar plexus that knocked the wind out of you. While you were still recovering she grabbed you by the wrist, threw herself against you, then launched your entire body over her shoulder with a gesture so effortless you barely believed it had happened until you hit the mat… hard.

"You can? I seem to be failing as spectacularly as ever," you wheezed when you had recovered slightly.

"I don't do much teaching, but you're catching on fast," Natasha admitted, offering a hand to help you up. "Plus I have a lot of experience with fighting against opponents with a lot of different levels of training. I would be able to tell if you were slower than usual. How long has this sleep thing been going on?"

"Couple weeks," you admitted, though you weren't honestly sure. It had been easier to wake up even before your alarm actually went off lately; was that a symptom too? How much did you want to let her know? Why would symptoms of your… whatever the _fuck_ HYDRA did to you be popping up now, weeks after you'd been rescued?

"Well, unless you start having some kind of negative effects from this, we'll just keep it in mind as another benefit," Natasha said, shrugging off the new information as if it was nothing. She actually smirked at you slightly, in a very disarming way. "Sure know I could use a few more hours in the day."

"Yeah, guess it isn't that bad," you agreed, before resetting and readying yourself for another exchange.

Clint's reaction was a little more comical - he patted you on the back and said he was sorry for the hangovers he'd given you that you apparently couldn't sleep off. You rolled your eyes but didn't say much - you didn't really have bad hangovers… right? You had nothing to compare them to, but you figured saying that you didn't need sleep and didn't get real hangovers was adding to an invisible list of "things that got fucked up by the treatment", and you didn't want them to think you were even weirder… especially since you kept needing less and less sleep by the week.

That was how, one fateful night, you ended up in the living room of your apartment while trying desperately to find something that wasn't either an infomercial or softcore porn at three in the morning. You'd fallen asleep at midnight, and yet you were already awake and feeling like you'd slept for days. Not unlike the past couple of nights, really, except for the part where you heard a knock on your door.

Opening the door revealed Fury, of all people, striding in with a casual nod. Under his shoulder he had a laptop tucked tightly to him, something he'd never brought with him before.

"No free Wi-Fi here sir, you're going to have to purchase a coffee before you can log in," you offered with a raised eyebrow as he strode over to your kitchen table and began to set up the device.

"You know, I'd be more upset if I didn't know there were three Starbucks in walking distance of this building, and you've never tasted any of them," Fury taunted, quirking his one good eye at you as he tapped at the laptop for a few more seconds. "If you're really that upset though, I can take the laptop back, _and_ tell Clint and Natasha Starbucks is off your shopping list, that way I can keep the sweet taste of a caramel coffee all to myself."

"You drink a caramel-flavored coffee?"

"We all have our weaknesses," Fury said, oddly serious. "I just haven't figured out what most of yours are yet."

"Alright, alright, put the ruler away Fury, I'll try to keep my wit in check for a minute," you offered, rolling your eyes. "What's this about taking the laptop back now?"

"You already have an HD TV hooked up, so you've been pretty exposed to the outside world so far. This is just the first step in expanding that a little," Fury said, gesturing to the computer. You stepped across the room to stand beside him in the middle of the kitchen. Fury had booted the computer up to a mostly blank desktop, only a Recycling Bin and Internet Explorer visible.

"You're seriously letting me have a computer? You told me no phones, no computers, and no tablets. When I asked if I was allowed to have a pager, you told me - and I quote - 'English, mother fucker, do you speak it?'. Didn't really leave much room for debate."

"Your privileges and freedoms are evaluated on an ongoing basis," Fury said, not even reacting to you as he gestured toward the small laptop. "Besides, that was what you are allowed to buy. This is a gift, because I'm just that magnanimous of a mother fucker."

"You swear a lot lately," you noted, leaning in and glancing at the laptop. "So what's the catch?"

"No catch, just a few restrictions. Any form of outgoing communication on this is completely blocked out. Most of it we handled through pretty simple protocols, but don't try anything funny - no message boards, no chat rooms, no 'technical support' links from whatever you broke most recently. If it isn't a URL bar or a note file, it probably won't even let you type anything in."

"Afraid I'll try getting help escaping?"

"More afraid of what you might know that you're hiding from us and trying to report home. Remember - just because I'm _starting_ to trust you doesn’t mean I can afford to actually afford to make that call."

"Fair enough. I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, even if I don't trust that gift horse enough to look up a few particular fetishes," you mumbled, stepping forward and testing out the laptop. Fury hadn't bothered with a mouse, but the trackpad was responsive enough.

"Good choice. I was going to hold off on this as an anniversary gift for you, but Natasha and Clint told me you've been having trouble sleeping. Figure this won't cure the insomnia, but it might keep you from going crazy. You having any other weird symptoms?"

Ah. There it was. Fury was worried about your mental health, or maybe even your physical health. You smiled and shrugged, in a way so practiced it almost felt natural.

"Not really sure what's weird since I don't really know what 'normal' quite is, but yeah, for the most part nothing else has changed. I'll let you know if I start turning green or suddenly grow so much muscle that I burst out of all my clothing except my weirdly purple shorts."

"This is why I said we shouldn't let you have the TV either," Fury pointed out, rolling his eyes at you. "If Romanov didn't stick her neck out for you so much, I'd have you crocheting to pass the time."

"Well tell her I finally owe her for something," you chuckled as Fury turned back toward the door to your apartment. "You know, aside from the whole saving my life, protecting me always, and teaching me how to not punch myself in the head in a real fight."

"Also the twenty missions a year she goes on that basically keeps this entire country running and keeps you from winding up a dead man in a ditch somewhere, but nobody else knows about those, so why would you care?"

You didn't have a witty response on hand for that one, so you let Fury stride his way out of your kitchen in silence. You were left alone with the glowing screen before you, contemplating what you'd just been told. On the one hand, Fury had just gifted you not only a forbidden object, but one which cost several hundred dollars that you couldn't really spare at a moment's notice. On the other hand…

Fury mentioned the note files, and the way he cast his eyes toward you at that point made you wonder how much he knew about your activities. Clint had assured you that there were no cameras in the bedroom, but you weren't quite so certain anymore… you felt a sudden need to make sure that your belongings were in order.

You put the laptop into sleep mode and headed back toward your bedroom, tucking yourself into bed just in case there really were cameras and you needed to be more subtle. In the darkness around you, you let one hand stray to the side of your mattress. There a thin seam, cut by hours of pressure and repeated motion with a couple pens, where the mattress had been severed and you could reach inside. There, amidst springs and stuffing, your fingers lightly brushed against the corners of a few sheets of paper you'd hidden.

As soon as you felt those sheets your mind started to calm itself a bit. They weren't anything incredibly important, honestly, but to you they were the world. Kept as little more than scrap paper from the notebooks you pretended to fill with shopping lists, personal goals, and the occasional short story, you hid away a few pages of each filled notebook to write down your personal thoughts and memories. After losing one lifetime to amnesia, you had decided that if something happened to your mind again, you wanted to have at least _one_ record of this life spent under SHIELD's care.

It was one of the only things you kept secret from Fury and his agents. One of the last private things you had… and just feeling it was enough to set your mind at ease, to the point you were almost able to drift off to sleep…

Almost.


	5. Some Truth, at Last...

"We need to have a talk."

"Alright listen, just some suggestions here," you said as Fury strode into your living room, his one eye cast warily around the place, only lingering briefly on your third consecutive hour of HGTV. "How about 'Hey, how's it going?', 'How was your day?', 'I heard some really cool things about you from Clint and Natasha'; hell, I'd take a 'Nice day outside, too bad you don't get to enjoy it, huh bitch?' at this point. It's rude, but at least it's better than walking in so serious."

"I'll keep those suggestions in mind," Fury noted, in a tone that told you exactly how long he'd consider your new ideas. "But I think you're gonna want to hear this. Especially since you're gonna be gloating about it for a while."

"Ooooh, I _do_ love gloating," you noted, flicking the television off immediately. "Hit me with what you got, Fury."

"You know if you want me to act a little more cordial, maybe try acting a little more professional," Fury noted, rolling his eye at you.

"Fair play, fair play! In the spirit of cooperation…" you said, clearing your throat quickly before speaking again. "Mr. Fury, please continue."

"Not bad, but you'll have to forgive me if I don't lighten up much. I came here for a very serious reason. I don't divulge what I'm about to share with you lightly."

"Is this my first SHIELD briefing?" You asked, sitting forward with interest.

"Yes and no. Technically this is highly, highly classified information - information I wouldn't share with anyone but my best agents. Aside from Agents Romanov and Barton, not even the soldiers involved in your recovery know about the things I'm about to tell you, but I think you deserve to know."

"…Wait, this is about me isn't it?" You said, jovial tone gone immediately. "I thought you said that you didn't find any information about who I was?"

"We didn't, not about you personally," Fury admitted, sighing and shaking his head. "The information that we found was more about the experiments going on at that facility. About what *exactly* was done to you."

"…So you know more than you let on about why my vision and hearing are so whacky?" You mumbled, glancing around, suddenly unwilling to meet Fury's eyes. You were starting to get a bad vibe from this, you could already feel the stress building in your chest. It was irrational, really - whatever had been done to you was already done, and not knowing wouldn't _magically undo_ that experimentation… still, you couldn't shut down the worrying.

"It's more than just your vision and hearing. Might even have something to do with that wit you're so proud of," Fury noted, leaning against the wall beside your television. "You've been watching television for a while now, so I know you've seen a few things about the Avengers. We haven't discussed them directly with you, but you probably know about Captain America by now?"

"A bit. Most of the shows seem to assume I already know about him, but I looked up some more stuff on that computer you loaned me. I'm guessing you already know all about my browsing history, though. Anyway, yeah, Captain America. Super-Soldier serum and a badass shield, no exploitable weaknesses other than being a bigger badass than he is."

"Very reductive, but I'll let the over-simplification slide for the moment," Fury said with a roll of his eye. "HYDRA has been trying to recreate that serum for decades, and they've gotten closer over time despite our best efforts to destroy their labs. But for every step closer they get to the soldier aspects, they lose a little bit of the super… and a lot of what makes Captain America who he is. They've produced some pretty strong fighters, some even physically more powerful than Captain America, but never anything resembling a true, intelligent soldier like him who can do what he does."

"Wordplay over exactly what a soldier is aside, what are you getting at, Fury?"

"Something happened a little while ago that gave them the edge they needed to really hammer home these experiments of theirs. They got their hands on some highly advanced materials known as 'Pym Particles'. The quick summary is they let molecules change size; think shrink-rays and growth-rays in one."

"Sounds pretty sci-fi," you said honestly.

"Well this is sci-reality," Fury said simply, striding across the room. "They found a way to do something we didn't even think was possible - they used some pretty fucked up gene splicing methods to try to force human bodies to become natural Pym Particle factories. Usually, making those particles is a highly-advanced science, and even though they were discovered and originally manufactured a few decades ago there are only a handful of individuals who would have the capability to produce them, even with the sample they stole. Controlling the way they interact with the human body is unpredictable. Generate the wrong frequency for the particles, and you either-"

"Shrink something way too small to be useful, or way too big to be practical?" You offered, not sure where Fury was going with this at all. 

"Or worse. You go too small, weird things start to happen - interdimensional weird," Fury noted. "You go too big, your body stops functioning the way it should. Oversized lungs don't function as well with regular sized oxygen particles."

"Alright, so they were doing some shit that shouldn't have worked… what did they do to me, then?"

"That's where things get complicated," Fury admitted, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "You see, when I said 'unpredictable', I really meant it. With the right level of technology guiding them these things are so pinpoint precision you could use them to just make yourself a fraction of an inch taller, but if you aren't directly controlling them? If Pym Particles are allowed to run wild while activated it's hard to say just how they'll affect the world. I told you a while back that we found a lot of bodies in the same place we found you… but I never told you how they died."

You didn't say anything as Fury paused, straightening up and looking right into your eyes. There was something within them that was taking on a cold tone. The look of a man who had stared death in the eyes so many times he treated it like an old friend.

"At first we thought the empty cells were just abandoned. Not enough volunteers - or not enough prisoners, whatever they were using. It wasn't until we had the place secure and gave it a full once-over that we found out the truth. Those cells weren't empty… the test subjects were just too small for our agents to notice while they were clearing it."

"Wait, are you- are you telling me everyone in there was some kind of science experiment with shrink rays?"

"Or growth," Fury warned, raising an eyebrow. "Pym Particles go both ways. Those were just the empty cells, there were plenty with bodies, remember? A few of the sights my agents saw in that place… I saw that headcam footage later. There were people in that place who died because their internal organs grew so large they burst out of their chests. Bargain or plead all you want… as long as I'm in charge, you're never gonna see the footage of the raid that rescued you. And that's for _your_ sake, not anyone else's. Even for HYDRA, those were some bad ways to go."

"So… I lived because of some fluke? I mean… I guess you already kind of told me that, but… why me?" you mumbled, your imagination running wild with this new information. Were you the final version of this experiment? The complete edition, just lucky enough to have made it across the finish line? Or were you some kind of genetic anomaly, a winning lottery ticket?

"We don't know," Fury said, shrugging his shoulders. "Most of HYDRA's data was wiped when we were infiltrating their base - that part wasn't a lie. We don't know why you lived when nobody else did. Could've been luck, timing, or you might just have something in your body that interacts with these particles better than the others."

"So… what's the intersection here? How are these particles and the Captain America serum related?" You spat out, fighting back a sudden unease in your stomach.

"The serum that made Cap what he is hit the limit of human capabilities. Perfect, peak human physiology; massively accelerated metabolism, insane healing factor, damn near photographic memory, hell the guy only sleeps about four hours a week, if that. Nothing that Hydra has ever made has been able to come close… so instead of closing the gap, they decided to shrink it instead," Fury said vaguely, glancing into the distance. "See the thing about Pym Particles is they can shrink or grow matter, but the matter continues to function just as well - that's why Ant-Man and Wasp can still fight fully-grown men while they're shrunk. But they always come back to the same size, and they shrink their entire bodies. So HYDRA answered the question Hank Pym was too afraid to test… what happens if you shrink some tissue in the human body, but leave the rest the same, then let their body fill in the gaps through natural regeneration? You end up with an even stronger human, with growths through their entire body, all functioning together."

"I know I've only had access to WebMD for like a week… but that sounds like cancer-ish? Maybe?"

"More than you know," Fury scoffed, nearly chuckling. "Most of those dead bodies we found were either because their bodies shrank too much to function with the rest of their unaffected organs, or because their organs grew too large to function with a normal body. Imagine a stomach shrinking to the size of a thimble, so that you have to choose between splitting your stomach open or starving to death. I'm not sure who were luckier; the ones whose bodies erupted over a few minutes or the ones who died of natural causes because they couldn't function anymore."

"Fucking… what about me, then? Do I just sit around until one day… boom, my bones explode out of me? What am I now, Fury?"

"What are you? You're one lucky motherfucker, that’s what you are. Whatever happened to you, it _only_ happened to you. That's why HYDRA wants you back, dead or alive. Your body is stable, we tested it thoroughly - you're not in danger of cancer, maybe not even from natural causes. You aren't likely to explode, but so far almost everything about you is enhanced. Sight, hearing, smell - hell, you even healed those bruises you got during the HYDRA attack on our base in record time."

"…How many people died for this, Fury?" You mumbled, unsure what else to say.

"At minimum, a few dozen, counting the ones we found in the base and the signs of disposal we found elsewhere." Fury admitted, shaking his head. "At best? No telling how many people they killed and disposed of before we got there, or at other facilities before moving to that one. That's why we never did more than blood tests on you. Whatever hybrid formula they evolved to make you, we'd be lucky if we only had to kill a few hundred to perfect it again, especially without their research. Hell, we have samples of your tissue, and our scientists still aren't sure what kind of gene therapy they had to perform… no organic matter has ever been altered to produce even weak particles like these before."

"And none of this helps you get my memories back, I'm guessing?"

"We're still not even sure why you lost your memories. It's possible that your brain matter has been slightly resized and reshaped like your muscle tissues and the rest of your nervous system; that could make restoring the old neural pathways impossible unless your brain cells eventually even out their growth patterns. Or it could be that you were suffering from brain damage before the procedure, and what they did actually fixed it. In that case the only way to restore your memories would be to undo what they did, which would most likely kill you. On the other hand-"

"Yeah, no, it's probably permanent, I get that. Unless we figure out who I was, I'll never know," you whispered, covering your mouth with one hand while tears started to well up in your eyes. You had thought you were comfortable with the idea of losing who you were a long time ago… but hearing just how fortunate you were to even be _breathing_ at that exact moment was something else. How could you even take one day of your life, knowing that being where you were was just a matter of a scientific or genetic lottery?

"I've seen that look before. Couple times on you, but… a lot out in the field."

Fury strode over to the wall and leaned against it, one shoulder as a base while he looked off into the distance, somewhere beyond you.

"All kinds of situations. Plane or a transport helicopter goes down, two hundred soldiers up in flames, two of 'em walk out unscratched and hike all the way to an LZ. Ambush attack by a group of guerilla fighters takes out seventy-three soldiers… leaves one alone, she survived by hiding under the bodies of her brothers and sisters after she took two rounds to the chest. Sometimes it's a bomb, or just some killer with a knife who takes out your whole family, and misses you hiding in the attic. Sooner or later they all look a lot like you - wondering what it was that made them special. Wondering how they lived, why they deserved to go on while everyone around them died.

"But you ask yourself that question every day, it starts eating you up inside. Because you're looking for an answer that isn't there. Sometimes the universe just smiles on you, sometimes you're just in the right place at the right time. It isn't about deserving it, it's just about being lucky. If you feel like you owe the universe or the people who didn't make it a debt, you go out there and you make the world a better place, more power to you. Hell, I'll point you in a good direction to get you started. But don't eat yourself up thinkin' you coulda switched places with one of the others, or that you didn't deserve to live. You got a chance to enjoy your life that some other people didn't, it always ends up being that simple - and the only way you waste _that_ is spending your time wallowing instead of living it."

"That… I dunno if that helps, but I don't know if anything could right now. Thanks, Fury. And thanks for telling me all this. I'll think up some way to gloat about you keeping secrets later."

"Take your time. I'm sure you'll come up with something. You always do."

You laughed as Fury walked out, wondering if it was the first time he'd made you laugh… it definitely made a top five list of the nicest things he'd said to you.


	6. Friendlier Rivalries

Learning about the fates - the real fates - of the others in the cells around you made you nervous, even paranoid about what you were, and what was waiting for you to let your guard down. Just because you hadn't died from what was done to you yet didn't mean you never would. What happened if one day you injured yourself while training, and during your body's attempts to recover, you over-compensated and a broken bone suddenly expanded and eviscerated your entire limb?

Somewhere in your mind you knew the thought was pointless, and also pretty unlikely. Not only would it make no sense for your body to suddenly lose the stability that you had seen so far, and that Fury was so certain of, but even if it was going to suddenly destabilize… how would you know? Better to live your life as you would, take advantage of the gifts you had, and put the consequences like your lost memories and the strange nature of your nearly inhuman physiology aside for the moment. Living in the fear of things that might never happened seemed foolish…

However, putting things aside was hard to do when most of your day was spent relentlessly binging whatever daytime television was on for poor souls like you without work to distract them from the monotony of life. After so many hours of trashy dramas, trashy courtroom shows, and trashy gameshows, you eventually grew tired of the sedentary lifestyle. So you spiced things up by adding in a physical regimen to your everyday lifestyle.

It started as more of a curious thought - you had already seen remarkable improvement on your abilities during training, being a bit sharper witted and faster to respond to Clint and Natasha as they drilled you. How great could you become if you pushed yourself harder? They had always done an excellent job of exhausting your mind and putting you in enough pain to make you feel like you'd finished a hard day's work, but your body wasn't always fully exhausted itself. Without proper weight-lifting equipment stamina was really the only thing you could work on besides basic muscle tone and ability anyway.

So you devoted yourself entirely to basic exercise, which mostly consisted of push-ups, sit-ups, jumping jacks, running in place, and unweighted squats. Probably not the most effective, but it was enough to make you feel a bit tired when you later trained with Clint and Natasha, so it was probably having *some* kind of effect, right? You weren't so sure at first, honestly… but then Clint and Natasha began to react to your efforts…

\---------------------------------------------------

"You've been working out, haven't you?" Clint asked as he stood across from you again. You were trying to disarm him using the technique he'd showed you, but unlike most other weeks he was not slowing himself down at all for you… and yet you were still coming closer than you thought possible to matching the highly-trained agent's movements.

"Huh? I mean, I've been keeping myself in shape, but Fury keeps telling me he won't deliver any weights for me to use," you admitted, caught a little off-guard by the odd question. "So not really a 'workout', more just staying active, I guess?"

"We should work out together sometime… with results like these I think we could both learn a thing or-"

Clint cut himself off as you nearly stole the bow from his hands, but he pulled away in time to slap your wrists - literally slap them, bringing one arm of the bow down across your wrists in a quick motion. You winced and pulled away from him, running your hands lightly over your reddened and sore skin.

"-two," he finished, quirking an eyebrow at you. "You sure you're just doing fitness exercises?"

"I did pushups, situps, and I drank plenty of juice, I guess?" You offered, shrugging.

"Damn," Clint said, laughing a bit too loudly, "I need to get me some of that juice. How about we call it here for today? I'll need to think up some better ways to test you."

You agreed, somewhat hesitantly. Clint was always pretty chill with you and the idea that you were closing some kind of gap between the two of you was intense, but his casual acceptance of it put you at ease.

However, only a few days later, you encountered a similar issue with Natasha, flavored in an entirely different way…

\---------------------------------------------------

"You seem to be taking care of your physical aspects pretty well," Natasha noted as you climbed up from the floor for the seventeenth time that afternoon - and yes, you were _definitely_ counting.

"Are you sure? You still seem to be kicking my ass just as soundly," you grumbled.

"I'm damn sure. So we're going to shift you to tactical expertise for now. No more sparring… we need to worry about your mind, make sure you're staying sharp for future missions."

"Wait, seriously? But if I'm improving, why are we moving away from what I'm getting good at?"

"Because being good isn't enough," Natasha explained, striding over to her bag. She pulled free some sheets of paper, a very thick pad that seemed daunting if only by the fact that it was crammed full of printed text, and she slammed it down on a nearby table without ceremony. "You need to be able to anticipate and react to any situation. Get over here and tell me how you'd handle these encounters. Retreating and regrouping is always a viable option."

"This is a *very* sudden shift," you noted. Clint's casualness felt like he was trying to re-evaluate how he was going to train you… Natasha's casualness came off as a deliberate distraction from how prepared she was with those papers.

"You have to be prepared to adapt in the field, too. We're keeping your training focused narrowly for now, but in time we'll start running mission simulations, on paper _and_ in a controlled environment."

"Yeah but… why such a sudden shift? Shouldn't we at least do a little sparring so I can stay in shape?"

"Clint is going to take care of your maintenance workouts," Natasha said easily, sliding into a chair by the table that she'd placed the papers on. "We have a lot of experience training up SHIELD recruits, trust us. Your situation is a little different, and we aren't training you full time just yet - we have to focus on one thing at a time."

"You sure you're not just afraid I'm going to beat you?" you prodded, raising an eyebrow. She shot one right back at you.

"Ever stop to think that we're stopping the physical training because you're getting too cocky?"

"Nah, I've always been cocky, this isn't new," you said, fighting the urge to smile back. Despite her words, she was clearly playing along with you - she had a smile on her face that looked more honest than usual… and yet, somehow, less sincere.

"True that. Fury's almost gotten to your wit, but you're lucky - Clint broke him in for you on that front a long time ago. Normally he wouldn't let a prisoner get away with that much lip."

"Think a bald guy with one eye would be used to getting ribbed every now and then," you said, sitting across from Natasha. "Then again most of them probably can't disappear you to a government blacksite."

"Or kick your ass seven ways from Sunday. Don't underestimate Fury; he might look a little older than the average SHIELD agent, but he trained most of the top agents. He's got plenty of fight in him, with or without a weapon. I can probably talk him into a demonstration if you don't buckle down and start focusing on these scenarios."

You were enjoying this, even as you began your adult equivalent to homework. Between her being so friendly and actually bothering to joke around with you the past few days, and the little drinking party between the three of you, you were actually starting to feel like Natasha could… well, maybe like was a strong word, but she was at least tolerating you. Hell, sometimes she was downright friendly. It was pretty much the best thing you could've asked for from the agent after your disagreements in the past…

So why were you having such a hard time relaxing around her? Her demeanor was calm, she was half-smirking, she was sitting in a comfortable position, hardly ill-at-ease… yet you almost felt like prey before a lion. A mouse before a trap. You couldn't even pinpoint what it was, but it was the same feeling you got that made you so angry with her before when she was very clearly playing with your emotions…

You smiled through the discomfort, and focused instead on what you were supposed to do when an enemy agent was holding one of your allies at gunpoint.

Somehow that was easier to deal with than the mysterious Agent Romanov.


	7. Workplace Disputes

Your door burst open rather unexpectedly one afternoon while you were in the middle of making your first ever homemade chicken nuggets (or at least the first you could remember), revealing a very urgent-looking Clint and Natasha both striding in together, arms laden with sacks. They looked surprisingly worried, and you tightened your grip on the knife in your hand and balanced yourself before you realized that they were carrying in groceries. The urgency still put you on edge, but Natasha actually smiled at you as she saw the way you had turned toward them.

"That training is finally kicking in, but it's not that kind of an emergency," Natasha advised, still smirking as she rushed past you. Were you that obvious? You'd tried to keep yourself from looking too startled.

"Where's the best place to hide stuff in here?" Clint asked, staggering past you with a load nearly as large as Natasha's. "And don't you pretend you haven't thought about it, we don't have much time - Fury is already after us."

"I, uh-" you stumbled over yourself, caught off guard by the question. "Exercise room? Plenty of space to hide small stuff there around the equipment, or in the storage closets, maybe in the folded up towels, or somewhere in the restrooms? I've been filling up the closet with sports and energy drinks, to try to-"

"Sounds perfect," Clint interrupted, heading towards the back of your home quickly. Natasha made herself at home in the kitchen, slowly unloading sacks as if she'd never been worried at all.

"Fury is gonna walk through that door in about thirty seconds," Natasha said. "Time to put your adaptability to the test. If he asks… you sent Clint to use the restroom. Got it?"

"I- what are- yeah, I got it," you mumbled, wanting to ask more questions but seeing from the look in her eyes that there wasn't much time for answers. It was a good thing, too, because you were about five seconds into trying to awkwardly get back to slice up chicken when Fury strode his way into the kitchen.

"So much for restocking the break room," Fury said in a low voice, almost dangerous. "Where, exactly, is Agent Barton?"

"I- what the hell lit a fire under your ass, Fury?" You asked, raising an eyebrow as you struggled to quell your confusion and let your natural snark take over. "I haven't seen you this animated since-"

"If I had the patience to deal with you right now, I _might_ let you finish that sentence without slapping you," Fury interrupted, pointing a finger at your face. He turned to Natasha, growing more annoyed by the moment.

"Now where is Agent Barton?"

"Right here, what's up, Fury?" Clint asked, striding back into the kitchen, empty sacks hanging from one of his fingers. "I didn't want to interrupt dinner prep, so I dropped everything off myself. Something wrong?"

"Well, now that you mentioned it, a couple of my agents got caught - on a camera they damn well _knew_ was there - getting shitfaced with one of our highest priority VIPs."

"Aww, you _do_ think I'm important," you interjected, trying to redirect Fury's heat. You didn't really know what was going on, but if Natasha and Clint were both in on it… well, Fury's side wasn't the one you were inclined to take.

"Important enough to _some people_ to break protocol, go behind my back, and risk the security of this building, apparently," Fury growled, keeping his eyes flickering between Natasha and Clint. "Care to tell me exactly what you were dropping off?"

"Sports drinks, energy drinks, protein bars, about three hundred rounds of .45 ammo and a .50 cal sniper, more sweat towels, just typical training gear, why?" Clint said, smirking with one of the widest grins you'd ever seen on him.

"Laugh all you want, Agent Barton. I don't care what you two do in your spare time outside of this building, but if you continue to endanger my operation - and my other agents - this won't end well for anyone involved."

Fury had a few more choice words for Natasha and Clint, but you tried to tune them out as you turned back to your food, not sure what else you could contribute. Although you wouldn't admit it to Fury, you'd seen some labels in the sacks Clint was carrying that looked a lot like the alcohol they had been drinking the night they stopped by… but Fury never even bothered to turn his eye back toward you again. As you were readying your chicken segments for the fryer he eventually ran out of steam, turning and striding away without bothering with a farewell.

"Well, that could have gone better," Natasha remarked dryly when his footsteps receded so far even you couldn't hear them anymore.

"Really? For Fury being in such a foul mood, I thought that went pretty well."

"Alright, how long until Fury checks the cams, though?" You asked, well aware that even though your eyesight was pretty keen, Fury was surely going to notice Clint not only carrying the sacks in, but check the footage later.

"Looped the footage from the other rooms with the last grocery run… I dropped off some basic supplies in your bathroom a couple weeks ago; if Fury checks the cameras that's all he'll see me doing."

"I wondered where all that extra crap came from. Appreciate the mint-scented shampoo though. Kinda tingly," you noted, shrugging at their apparent thoroughness. "You sure he's not going to come through and tear this place apart?"

"Not really, but what's he going to do if he finds anything? You didn't ask for half the stuff I just dropped off in the training room. I can always tell Fury that I was hiding them away for myself, as a reward for putting up with your bullshit."

"Honestly, Fury might actually buy that, as often as _you_ piss him off," Natasha said, eyeing you with a grin on her face.

"Okay, tell me what's _really_ going on here," you emphasized, eyeing the two of them. "Fury has _never_ had a proper disagreement with you two in front of me, not like that… and what's the big deal about the alcohol thing anyway? I figured you guys wouldn't get in trouble for that. Fury wasn't wrong… we did kind of drink right in front of the cameras."

"That's why we're fighting with Fury," Clint said, shaking his head with an annoyed sigh. "We honestly thought it would be fine. Fury knows how important that was to us - we figured he'd understand wanting to celebrate, since he knows what went down. We _thought_ he was starting to trust you enough to allow it. We even asked other agents to cover our shifts on cams…"

"When he found out what we did," Natasha continued, shaking her head, "he ordered us to cut back on the training, spend less time in here. Said we were getting too attached. I still think he might be looking to replace us."

"Fuck Fury."

Though the words sounded a lot like what you were thinking, they actually came from Clint. You cast your glance over to Natasha in surprise, then both of you glanced over to Clint. He shrugged, looking quite calm despite the heat in his voice.

"What? You're both thinking it," Clint said defensively, offering a shrug. "Look I'm all for being careful around potentially lethal HYDRA experiments, believe me, we've been almost taken out a couple dozen times by them. But if shit was gonna hit the fan… why would it have taken this long?"

"Fury's always been overly cautious. So have we. That’s the reason that we're still here," Natasha said quietly. But even as she was talking her eyes started shifting over to where you were. "But… if you were going to betray us, you had the perfect chance back during the HYDRA raid. If something was going to go wrong with your treatment and it already took this long, it could be weeks, months, maybe years from now. Way longer than we can keep you hanging around here."

"Exactly, so what's the problem here? You know what, I think I've got an idea. How about we keep the cameras on loop, we adjust the feeds for Fury for the whole building… and we head out tonight?"

"Clint, what are you talking about?" Natasha asked, her face actually breaking slightly - just a moment - as Clint's words sunk in.

"I'm talking about going out and having a night on the town! The only reason we all didn't go before was because of Fury's rules, but if he's going to be this much of a jackass about it, I say we go for broke. There's a killer bar down the street, not too many people, we're in and out in a couple hours. Just long enough for a good buzz and for me to show you two how to shoot a real game of pool."

"You can't seriously be suggesting we break containment to spend the night at a dive bar," Natasha said, quirking an eyebrow so hard it nearly broke into her hairline.

"I mean I'm fine with leaving but not if Fury's gonna come in here, burn my beanbag, and keep you two away forever," you interjected, glancing between them urgently. "Seriously, as much as we didn't get along at first… you two have kept me _sane_ the past few weeks. If Fury is the reason that you two already can't train me like normal, then-"

"Then nothing," Clint said, waving his hand. "If Fury wants to get mad, he can get mad at us. We'll be the ones who walked you out, and if he really wants to get angry, he can get angry at us."

"Not the worst idea. I could honestly go with a night to blow off some steam… doing these double shifts doesn't give much down time," Natasha said after a moment, seeming to agree as she shrugged and leaned back against the wall.

"Wait, you're okay with this?" Your voice probably came out a bit harsher than you'd originally intended, but you were genuinely surprised. Natasha smiled and looked at you as in mock offense.

"What, you think I don't know how to have a little fun? I take things a bit more seriously than Clint over here… but that includes letting loose. Local bar, quick trip out, we doctor the camera feeds and the security systems a little bit before Fury gets a chance to check them... it could work. If it doesn't, what's Fury going to do?"

The last words were spoken almost playfully, Natasha cocking an eye at you.

"That's a dangerous question," you said quietly, not sure how to feel. On the one hand… was Natasha loosening up a bit? Even opening up to you? That was great, but why so suddenly?

"We live with danger around here… only thing you can ever ask is how much you're willing to risk."

Clint's words were almost profound - almost. You turned your eyes between the two of them, though your gaze lingered only a little longer on Natasha. What exactly were you risking by leaving with them? If Fury was going to get mad, surely most of his rage would be focused on those two… and even if you were right about Natasha, what would she be trying to take from you? Anything you owned was by SHIELD's graces, and you had no secrets to keep.

"Alright… fuck it, I'm in. Can I go change into something a little nicer?"

You actually were planning on changing into some nicer clothes - you'd gotten a decent set of "going out" clothes a couple weeks ago in the vain hope that you'd have an excuse to wear them. But you were also hoping to secure the diary pages stuffed into the side of your mattress, just in case someone decided to search your room while the three of you were out. Thankfully Clint and Natasha agreed quickly, both smiling. You felt almost guilty as you traipsed back to your bedroom, shutting the door quickly as you disrobed. In no time flat you'd changed outfits and awkwardly stuffed the pages away in the hand-sewn pocket of your clothes, hoping the layers of loose cloth and hobby-store insulation you'd stuffed in with them were enough to keep the crinkles from Clint's keen ears, if he were paying attention.

Then you strode out into the living room, putting on your best smile and a wide-open stance to bring on the world. Clint and Natasha both wrapped an arm around you, and with one last surprising cry of "Fuck Fury!" the three of you were out the door.

"Out the door"… odd how much meaning that phrase still held in your life. How much it nearly overwhelmed you.

How much you were fighting back tears from the simple act of riding an elevator down toward the ground level.


	8. Professional Atmosphere

When your adrenaline and emotions died down you were a bit more aware of the situation that you were in… and in addition to making you appreciate it more, it also made you start to question exactly what was going on. Adrenaline mixed with caution as you found yourself at a backroom table in the corner of a fairly upscale bar, eyes always wandering as you questioned every person around you. This scene - no matter how classy or respectful - didn't really line up with your impressions of your SHIELD babysitters.

Clint you could kind of get - he had basically been laid back the entire time you'd known him, minus the brief period after you first pissed off Natasha. Not that you held that aggression against him; apparently, he and Natasha were even closer than you would've guessed originally. Still, you remembered his early days, and the times that came after you befriended Natasha again. Taking shots in a high-end bar didn't seem at all out of character for him. Natasha, on the other hand…

You'd never really seen or heard her go against Fury in the slightest, even after he hinted at her background when you grew curious and persistent. She never seemed out of step with him before this… yet despite all that, something was scratching at your subconscious as you tipped back glass after glass with both her and Clint. Even if Fury believed your story, even if she herself believed it, she had never let her guard down before - not even around Clint, as best you could tell. Why would she have such interest now? Maybe she really believed you were her antithesis, proof that forgetting one's past didn't necessarily make you more forgiving, or make you appreciate life more… maybe…

But that didn't ease your uncertainties nearly as much as you wanted it to, and no matter how you tried to convince yourself, you couldn't fully let your guard down. Whether it was the subtle crackling noises of the diary pages in your pant leg or the ever-present eyes of the others on you even then, always glancing over at you when you least expected it, you couldn't quite put yourself at rest just yet.

Even as you were pulling up outside some place named "Club 616" you couldn't shake the hesitation and nervousness that still clung to you. Smiling at Clint as he opened your car door, throwing a playful smirk at Natasha as she took you arm-in-arm toward the club entrance, even confidently grinning at the bouncer as you somehow strolled past without being identified… none of it gave you any real confidence in what you were doing. Until the first drinks were poured and you three were alone at a corner table, you didn't feel like you were safe. Even now, after having been inside for almost an hour, you still felt like there was something crawling up your spine.

"You alright? You seem a little on edge. Drink more, it helps," Clint advised, shifting a little in his seat to lean closer to you. He downed his glass almost immediately after, as if trying to set a "good" example.

"In fairness, the last time the three of us went outside together, we were running from HYDRA," Natasha pointed out accurately, still lightly sipping her own glass.

"Do you guys always talk about stuff like that so freely in public? I mean, aren't you… secret agents or something?"

"That's why we come here," Clint said easily, gesturing to the bar and offering his hand. You tipped back the last of your drink and passed the empty glass to him to return.

"What, some kind of SHIELD run bar?"

Clint didn't answer before striding away toward the bar, but he did quirk an eyebrow in a way that seemed almost surprised. Natasha just smirked at the question for a moment, taking a long draft from her glass before speaking.

"Running a nightclub? Not really their expertise, even if we like to let our stress out sometimes," Natasha teased, allowing herself the slightest smirk as she turned her attention back to you. "You're overthinking things."

"In what way?"

"Remember what Fury and Clint told you about me?" Natasha said quietly, raising an eyebrow. You had a feeling what she was referring to, but didn't get a chance to respond before she continued. 

"People know everything about my past. Pretty sure Fury still has anything on SHIELD locked out of your ability to read, but anyone else can look up everything SHIELD had on me from my personnel file. That includes just about everything about me - who I was, where I came from, what I've done… everything before and after I joined SHIELD. I released… well, I released everything I tried to keep secret before then. So you're overthinking things, because this bar doesn't need to be SHIELD to know everything about us at a glance. The whole world recognizes me on sight, same with Clint. We don't come here because they know who we are, we come here because they pretend not to."

You let yourself lean backwards in your seat as you tried to let Natasha's words sink in. You tried to imagine what that was like, having to live your entire life knowing everyone else around you probably recognized you on sight, and knew all of the little things that you'd tried to keep secret. You had known about that for a while, of course… but being out and about with other people in the real world made you realize how pervasive it must have been for her, how hard to escape the effects. 

She couldn't even go out to the grocery store, to the mall, to the bar without being recognized and judged. Her situation was almost the exact opposite of your own, where not even you yourself knew the details of your past, and yet somehow… the result was shockingly similar. She was locked away from the world in her own way, in her own form of cage, shackled by judgements and impressions she had made before even entering the room.

"A toast to telling people to take their judgement and fuck off with it."

"Shit, I don't know what I missed, but I'll drink to that," Clint agreed, setting down your glass in front of you while taking a long draft from his own. The line of thought you were on was so troublesome you downed a full third of the glass before even realizing you were drinking.

"You'd drink to anything," Natasha teased, smirking wryly at Clint. He didn't bother to respond verbally, only winking as he tipped his glass back a little further and took an extra swig with his eyes locked to hers. Something seemed to pass between the two of them, but you weren't quite sure what it was.

You three spent the next several hours chatting and relaxing. You eased up on the drinking after the first couple hours and just sipped idly while alternating between pool, darts, or just sitting and enjoying the music. You had to admit one nice thing about having no memories was that you more or less never got bored… although sometimes you did have the strange feeling of wondering if you'd done something like this before. Maybe you were even in this bar before, standing where you are now, lining up the same shot…

The feeling of déjà vu that line of thought gave you was pretty disconcerting, and you did your best to put it out of your mind.

But what was bothering you more was that even after a few drinks and a lot of time spent with your friends (or whatever the three of you were), you were still just as nervous as the moment that you walked into the bar. You tried to tell yourself it was social anxiety, or that you were just too stressed out over your first real trip to really relax…

But if that was the case, why did it seem like the bartenders and other patrons were always staring at you? Not at Clint, barely at Natasha.

Just you.


	9. Business Lunch

The next few days went by mostly without notice. Once again you woke up after a night drinking fairly heavily without the slightest hangover… and all that on about three hours' worth of sleep. You had already noticed your need for sleep decreasing a while back, but the fact that it was continuing on long after whatever experiment was done to you had you a bit worried. If things kept going like this, soon you'd barely have closed your eyes and you would already be wide awake.

It made you wonder what was going on, but you weren't sure if you should point it out to anyone else. You weren't going to tell Fury, that much was certain - you were still making sure to stay in your bedroom for a minimum of six hours a night just so he didn't wonder why you were up wandering around so much during the night. But you were starting to wonder if telling Natasha or Clint might be okay. Sure, they were still obviously working for Fury, but they were at least trying to make you feel comfortable around them - something Fury hadn't done in… well, however long it had been since you first woke up in that cell.

But every time you got close to sharing with them, you wondered what would happen if you revealed too much. If you gave away info that wasn't in the samples they took and that you hadn't shared before. They know about your improved hearing an eyesight, and you had no idea about what they might have learned from all those experiments… but if they didn't already know about your sleep cycle and hangover immunity, what happened when you told them about it? Would they send you back into a full lockdown, some new underground facility? Would Fury restart his experiments? You wanted to trust Clint and Natasha…

But how could you when Natasha seemed to be a different person every week?

You had thought she would run out of faces to wear eventually - you figured sarcastic, snarky, and only slightly angry at you would be her new norm. But now she was getting friendly. Almost… too friendly? You didn't think you'd be so unhappy for her to ease up and stop scowling at you quite as much, but you were. Maybe it was because it felt so unnatural. For as much time as you'd spent around her, you still couldn't read her properly… something just felt off.

You were actually contemplating that very fact one night while doing the dishes when you heard a knocking on the door to your apartment. You were halfway caught off-guard by the knock, and it took you a few moments to compose yourself.

"Uh, c-come in?"

Your words were hesitant, and your hands paused their scrubbing of the dish in your hand just in time for the door to slowly creak open. Natasha peeked her head in the open door, looking almost as curious and surprised as you did.

"You sure about that one? You seem pretty nervous, and I even knocked," Natasha teased, her red locks dancing around her face as she smirked at you.

"Ah- yeah, come in," you assured, tweaking your neck toward the living room. "I'm just working on dishes, kind of got lost in thought."

"No problem, you don't need clean dishes tonight anyway," Natasha said, stepping into your apartment more fully and shutting the door behind her. Now that she was inside you saw she was carrying two plastic containers of food, either leftovers or something she'd prepped for this.

"Wait, did you… did you *cook* for me?" You said, actually laughing as you looked at both of the sizeable containers. "I've got to admit, I've been expecting you to do a lot of things - put a gun to my head, pin me to the ground with my arm behind my back, kneecap me… cooking food was *not* something I *ever* imagined you doing."

"What, you think I can't cook?" Natasha asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

"I'm pretty sure you can cook - hell, I'm pretty sure you can do anything at this point," you said, still chuckling.

"Keep talking like that and pinning you to the ground before the end of the night isn't out of the question," Natasha teased… wait, teased? Flirted, almost?

The remark was casual, but it threw you off completely. Natasha was coy, sarcastic, and at best casually friendly to you nowadays, but in the past she'd been everything from comforting to mean to almost spiteful... the one thing she had very much never been was a flirt. Even at her most sympathetic or drunk, that was not her game. Natasha must have seen the shock and hesitation on your face, because she rolled her eyes at you and made herself at home on your kitchen table.

"What, am I not allowed to have some fun with you? You get shy so easily, and I seem to remember Clint offering to remind you how to kiss if you beat him in a game of pool. What, women can't joke around? Or are you just that much more interested in my offer?"

"He was trying to throw off my shot so I *wouldn't* beat him, even though I never stood a chance to begin with. Also, never play a guy named 'Hawkeye' in pool. But I'm guessing you already knew that, and just chose not to tell me ahead of time."

"You don't remember how to play pool or any games you might have played in the past; does it matter how badly you get your ass kicked the first time?"

"I might not have any memories, but as you well know my eyes are *definitely* sharp enough to tell when someone takes a pity shot to give me one turn before they completely annihilate me," you respond, rolling your eyes as you continue to scrub away at your dishes. "And you still didn't bother to warn me that Clint has eyes and a mind so sharp he can basically skewer a literal fly across a football field. I mean I've only ever seen him use that bow for real once, and I was too busy trying not to die to really watch that closely."

Natasha ignored your accusation and made herself at home at your table, leaving the containers of food out and opened on your table. You noticed that one contained what looked like skewered meat chunks while the other looked somewhat remniscent of the frozen calzones you used to eat while imprisoned in the old SHIELD base.

"I figured the sooner you got used to being surprised and shocked by the accomplishments of others, the better," she explained almost effortlessly, meeting your unamused gaze with a degree of humility and humor. "Every time I underestimate someone, I come home with a new scar or bullet hole somewhere on me."

You found yourself wanting to ask where she was hiding all these supposed scars... both in a genuinely interested manner and also in a flirtatious way. That was perhaps the most troubling thing for you. Agent Romanov - you had to remind yourself she was an Agent even now - was so talented at falling into another character or form of expression that even knowing how she had acted around you previously, you still found it hard to tune out her body language and the way her eyes lingered on you. Was she that good at manipulating you...

Or did she actually have a point?

"I have been trying to evaluate everyone around me at first glance... I just have no idea how successful I've been since I only really know three people so far," you deflected, shaking your head. "Guess I already underestimated one of them, but to be fair, I was drunk."

"Best to know your own tolerances and limits as well as anyone else's. Never let your guard down if you can help it, and never put yourself into a situation you're not confident about fighting your way out of," Natasha advised. Despite the seriousness of her words and tone, she didn't even hesitate or pause as she sorted through your cupboards and pulled out plates to set the food she'd brought onto.

"You sound like you have some experience there. Care to share?" You asked, halfway as a joke. To your surprise, although Natasha kept setting the table, she smirked up at you and slowed her words a bit in response.

"...I grew up in an orphanage. It was a Russian one without much supervision, but heavy penalties for the children who misbehaved. In a lot of ways, the people who made it out without any scars were just the ones who didn't get caught. I found myself in a lot of seedy situations growing up. Everyone makes a few mistakes. I got lucky; mine were the small kinds, the ones that leave you with scars, but let you keep moving forward. The kind that let you walk away from them if you're strong enough to piece yourself back together. The kind that make sure you never repeat that mistake, because you know if you do, you'll barely be human again when it's over. I learned my limits because every time I went pas them, someone beat me back into place."

You looked over toward Natasha with an expression you hoped didn't fully reveal how shocked you were. It wasn't much, but it was the most of her past she'd ever bothered to open up to you with.

"You uh... you werent through a lot, huh? Guess I already knew that."

"No worse than a lot of others," Natasha said, shrugging. Her eyes seemed focused on you, yet there was a certain distance in them. "I eventually ended up kicked out of the system at eighteen, found myself working for some seedy places. I did well enough - or badly enough - to get SHIELD's attention after a few years, but Fury saw something in me that he liked. He recruited me instead of killing me."

"...I guess maybe he's more trusting than I would've guessed when I first woke up, huh? How many SHIELD recruits are ex-criminals?"

"Not many," Natasha said, her voice a bit harsher than you would have expected. "Fury has his moments, but he's not trusting, he's a good judge of character."

"You'd say that even after he yelled at you two for drinking around me?" You asked curiously. "I like to think I'm a good enough character for him not assume that I'd attack or escape the moment you two let your guards down."

"I said he was a good judge of character, not that he was a fool, or that he wasn't a hardass," Natasha responded, grinning just slightly. Fury trusts you enough not to put a bullet in your head and leave it at that - that's a high bar for a former HYDRA experiment."

"Fair, I guess," you noted, shaking your head at the reminder of what could have happened to you.

"I'm not saying that to put you down... I'm saying that Fury saw something in you worthwhile. Something that made him want to take a risk. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get Fury to take risks? He threatened us for taking you to a SHIELD-friendly bar.”

“That's... actually a really good point,” you admitted, shaking your head as you stepped away from the dishes.

“I make a lot of them. You should listen more often,” Natasha said while she grinned at you.

You finished up the dishes as quickly as you could, and then joined Natasha at the table. You were pretty sure that there was something else to this visit – but for your own sake, you tried to be less suspicious. Whatever they were doing, Natasha and Clint were... well, you'd like to say friends, but that seemed like a mutual thing. At a minimum they were two people in charge of your life that you wanted to be friendlier with. So you did possibly the riskiest thing you could do.

You stopped evaluating Natasha for the afternoon, and started to trust her.


	10. Desire & Temptation

Honestly, you never would have anticipated your surprise luncheon with Natasha, but you'd be lying if you said it was unwelcome. Though SHIELD itself gave you a lot of pause – particularly Fury – you also had to thank them for your life, in theory. It felt a bit odd to thank anyone, much less a faceless organization, for not murdering you on first contact... but no matter how you tried to think about your first encounter with them, you were ill at ease when trying to picture how you would handle yourself in their situation.

An unknown person, with unknown abilities or potential, kept in the deepest reaches of the base of an enemy known as openly hostile, who – upon their accidental awakening – broke free of their restraints and assaulted several agents to the point of breaking bones and damaging organs... You had to admit, even now, you had a hard time imagining yourself sparing the offender in the same way that Natasha, SHIELD, and Fury had, in about that order.

All that said... if the random lunch was a surprise, the dinner invitation? That was... well...

\------------------------

"You, uh... you what, now?"

"I said, I got clearance to treat you to dinner. Nice Italian place not too far from here; Lo Inganno, every pasta they serve is worth dying for. It's actually my favorite restaurant in the city."

"Italian? Wait, we're in New York and you're going to shill out Italian food to me as a top-shelf restaurant? I'll admit I haven't really experienced the city much myself, but I figured there had to be at least one decent Russian restaurant around here," you admitted, staring at her with a strange mixture of confusion and suprirse.

"A girl can't reveal all her secrets the first date," Natasha teased, winking at you. "Just because I'm from Russia doesn't mean I don't enjoy experiencing all the delights the world has to offer. You've been cramped up in a detention bloc apartment-cell combo or a highly guarded loft apartment for basically your entire life – at least all of it that you remember. Your only experience outside of them was to flee a HYDRA attack and a night out at a dive bar. What better way to broaden your horizons and experience the world than some genuine foreign cuisine?"

You found it hard to argue with her logic – but it's not the thought for your sake that bothers you, its the thought of the others. Fury got mad at Natasha and Clint for getting drunk with you on the anniversary of whatever the hell happened in Budapest. Then they snuck you out by putting the cameras on a loop to go to a dive bar. The idea of him giving you clearance to just dine out at some fancy Italian restaurant? Preposterous.

"I see three flaws in your plan here," you said, leaning against the door frame of the living room.

"Oh? Do tell, I love hearing people tell me why I'm wrong," Natasha said, laying on the sarcasm as she grinned at you.

"One, I have no idea what kind of food I like, and I would feel super awkward being on..." you paused briefly, realizing you were about to say 'being on a date'. Judging by the quirk in Natasha's lips, she realized your slip. "...a business dinner with you and not liking the food."

"Nice save," Natasha said, grinning. "But it's not an issue. We're going to have the place to ourselves, after hours, and they're going to prepare every dish in the house. I was serious about broadening your horizons, you know. You're gonna try every dish that my favorite Italian chef can conjure up. Did you think SHIELD would _willingly_ let you walk into an uncontrolled environment?"

You paused for a moment, a little uncertain how to respond. On the one hand... no, you absolutely did not expect SHIELD to allow this, and yet she's posing that as a reason why you should trust her – because the situation she is proposing is somehow less ridiculous?

"That was problem two. I literally don't believe that you actually got Fury to agree to any of this. I just... I don't see Fury approving this come hell or high water," you admitted. "It's throwing me off. Making me think you're not telling me the whole truth."

"You're pretty suspicious... that's good," Natasha said, smiling genuinely at you. "Normally, no, he never would have. But after him blowing up over us sharing our anniversary with you, we decided to start really laying into him."

"Laying into your boss? Sounds like a good way to get fired," you said, rolling your eyes.

"Maybe, if you weren't damn near irreplaceable," Natasha said with a shrug. "Not a brag, just an acknowledgement. We know he's seen the reports, and probably a lot of the footage around here. You're not acting like a threat, and you've shown almost no interest in getting out of here. Back at the old facility you tried to escape out an airduct before even a month had passed."

You considered her words, and you were actually surprised to find how true they were. When you woke up in that HYDRA cell – and then shortly later in the SHIELD cell – you were focused on escape, evasion, and trying to figure out what the hell was going on more than almost anything else. Since you came here... hell, you've actually never even tried the handle on the door.

Shit, have they been leaving it unlocked? They do just seem to barge in without keys...

"Alright let's say I believe you..."

You pause, letting that hang in the air. Natasha quirks an eyebrow when you don't say anything after a second.

"Ah, fuck it, I've got nothing. I'm just... I'm gonna trust you on this one, Nat. And if whatever guard or clerk is watching the door shoots me, my dying words are gonna be 'I fucking knew it'."

"I've heard worse last words," Natasha says with a grin. There's still something there – a moment of... hesitation? Now _that_ was a new one for her. "Pretty sure I'm two for two, what's problem number three?"

"Number three is... I have nothing to wear to a formal dinner," you said, rubbing the back of your head in embarrassment. You actually didn't think you'd get to the third problem, so it was more a joke than anything. Why would you need an outfit if the restaurant was basically going to stay open after hours for a secure dinner?

"Already taken care of. There's going to be a delivery here in one hour – formal suit, already fitted, freshly pressed, the works, hand delivered by one of your guards you haven't met yet. Think that'll help you believe Fury is on board with this?"

"Uh... yeah, actually," you said in shock, not sure what else to say. The fact she'd been prepared for – and actually met – your joking expectation was surprising, even for Natasha who always seemed to have an answer.

"Good. If you think I'm lowering my standards just because there won't be many people around to see, you're sorely mistaken. Dressing up isn't just about impressing others – it's about reminding yourself how much you're worth," Natasha says, offering one final wink before she strides out of your apartment. You stand there for a second, wondering what the hell came over her and Clint in the past few days.

Wondering how in the hell she knows your measurements... and deciding it's better not to ask questions.

\----------------

_This is too good to be true._

That became your mantra for the evening, one brought on from every single facet of the strange dinner date you found yourself almost forced into. The suit that arrived – on time, just as Natasha insisted – was a perfect fit, right down to having you feeling almost as comfortable in it as you did in the pajamas you ordered a few weeks back. The dinner that was served almost immediately after your arrival, as if the chef and his crew had known your exact arrival time. The perfect environment, the enjoyable music, the dress Natasha was wearing – the perfect mixture of black and red hues that ignited every facet of your imagination...

No, it wasn't just your imagination. You were sure of that. Something was going on, it had to be. Things were too smooth, too perfect, too enjoyable. Since the moment you stepped outside of your apartment for the first time since the dive bar outing, everything had gone not just smoothly... but so without a hitch it had to be almost rehearsed.

"Holy shit, you weren't kidding," you said as one of the waiters approached the table and replaced a dish you'd half-finished with another full spread of elegant pork cutlets marinated and drenched in a thick alfredo and cheese sauce. The spread before you was enormous enough on its own– you'd assumed Natasha's 'every dish in the house' remark was more or less hyperbole, but the table presented to you both was so spread out with appetizers and entrees that you were starting to suspect she wasn't exaggerating at all.

But more than the food – more than the perfect way the night unfolded – what threw you off was Natasha herself. You were enraptured with the food and flavors assaulting your senses, and yet none of them could distract you from her. Her outfit, her behavior, or... just her. She was staring at you nearly as much, and didn't seem to think poorly of your frequent glances over. She ate in that same controlled, well-mannered way as she always did, but there was definitely something new in the air. 

She was seated across from you, directly facing you over the thin table – despite the fact that a larger, wider one would have made sense with the massive number of dishes that you were being served. She claimed that the table was small enough that you could both reach every dish, but the table was even smaller than that – so close that more than once you two were brushing against each other, either above or below the table as you shifted to sample more foods. The touches weren't awkward, except when Natasha met your eyes after some of them. It wasn't the flirting that was awkward...

It was Natasha.

You weren't sure if what you were seeing was actually there or just in your head. But sometimes, just for a moment, a single frame of your interactions... you thought you saw something deeper in those eyes. Most of the time you couldn't understand the strange looks she gave you, but something about this one gave you just a glimmer of recognition. Nothing concrete, more like a feeling, passed between two people in just a moment.

Regret? Grief? Sorrow? Guilt? All of those were present, but none sounded more or less right than the others. Whatever it was, it was always gone in a flash... replaced by that same smile, the one that she had more and more when she looked at you lately.

The one you'd wanted to see for so long... and that now made you nothing but uncomfortable. No matter how hard you were trying to trust her.


End file.
